


The Silent Whisperer

by DeathAngel4286



Category: S - Fandom, Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Wars Setting, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Ben Solo Needs A Hug, Ben Solo is a Mess, Blood and Torture, Dead Snoke (Star Wars), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Evil Snoke, Fanfiction, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Humor, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Sensitivity, Force Visions, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Jedi, Jedi Ben, Jedi Ben Solo, Kylo Ren Angst, Kylo Ren Has Issues, Kylo Ren Needs a Hug, Kylo Ren Redemption, Lightsaber, Lightsaber Battles, Lightsabers, Major Original Character(s), Origin Story, Original Character(s), POV Ben Solo, POV Kylo Ren, Post-Star Wars: The Last Jedi, Pre-Star Wars: The Force Awakens, Protective Ben Solo, Protective Kylo Ren, Psychological Torture, Redeemed Ben Solo, Snoke Being a Dick, Soft Ben Solo, Star Wars References, Star Wars Spoilers, Star Wars: The Force Awakens Spoilers, Supreme Leader Kylo Ren, The Dark Side of the Force, The First Order Wins (Star Wars), The Force, War, Young Ben Solo, Young Love, Young Rey
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-27
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:00:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,683
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22917358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DeathAngel4286/pseuds/DeathAngel4286
Summary: Khaylia Zenphi, the Jedi prodigy that belonged to Luke Skywalker prophesied to rekindle the spark of rebellion, to reigniting the passion of the Light Side. One unfortunate night, leaving everything she had ever loved behind, Khaylia kneels before the Supreme Leader of the Dark Side who had enraptured her heart with dark tendrils of anger.According to Snoke’s merciless plans, everything he had wanted in an apprentice was being handcrafted through each of his experimentations on the limits of the human body. Gone was the teenage girl filled with love, compassion and kindness to have her place filled by a ruthless killing machine. A woman whose name would echo throughout the universe, becoming more feared than any other name before; The Silent Whisperer.But living in the deepest parts of her soul not even Snoke could touch, a sliver of her heart remains for the boy she left behind. Never would she thought they would meet again, but when she's commanded by Emperor Snoke to train his young new apprentice, would she have to stare into the face of the boy she loved? Will she stick true to her master, or will she overcome the darkness swirling inside her and save Ben Solo from his own parallel path of destruction?
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	1. Origins

'I beg of you, Khaylia, don't do this to me, to us! We can work this out together like we always do. I can help you, Master Luke can help you! Please don't leave me, I-...'

In a rush, the words tumbled out of his mouth climbing and clambering over the ones to follow, were silenced when an all too familiar touch tentatively reached out towards him, caressing his face as if it were committing every detail to memory. Khaylia knew of the pain Ben was feeling having no longer closed off his mind to her, laying bare his raw emotions in front of her. The Solo/Skywalker family had never been afraid to shy away from true, utter compassionate devotion; Ben truly was a family man. 

Craning his head to further nuzzle into her loving hands, he closes his eyes and relishes in the feeling of being held once again. For what may be the last time. The other Jedi trainees had always admired and revered Ben Solo for his abilities in commanding the Force and his incredible, yet formidable talent with a lightsaber. He showed no emotion at the peak of any stressful situation, but if one were to look upon this scene, of a vulnerable, broken boy clinging onto a girl as if his life depended on it, the name of Ben Solo would never cross their minds.

'I know my love. But I have to do this.'

Her voice came out in mere gentle whispers, almost as if she were afraid to spook the poor boy in his vulnerability. Khaylia, known as a mother to the other Jedi youngling pupils, revered as a woman of few words; but wise words amongst the masters. Held with high esteem, the star pupil under Master Luke whom he considered being family like she was the daughter he could never have. Knowing that she had to leave Ben and the man she knew as her father split her soul at the seams. 

It tore her mind apart, the calling to the Dark that had been bubbling underneath the surface for so long, chipping away at her sanity until she could no longer ignore those dark tendrils she could feel growing inside of her heart.

Both hands were now holding the boy's entire body weight, fearing that if she were to let go, he would crumble and shatter against the ground like broken glass. Khaylia gently lowered Ben onto the grass beneath them, cradling him into her chest as she rests on her knees. Momentarily, his eyes shifted upwards with tears blurring his vision as he gazed up at his lover with a sorrowful expression.

'I love you, Ben Solo.' Sealing their fate with a passionate kiss, they bid their final goodbyes.

'I love you, Khaylia Zenphi. Don't forget about me.'

Carefully reaching into her blouse, hands clasping around the rose quartz crystal Ben had given her many moons before, she placed a tender kiss against the coarse, jagged edges.

'I will never forget you, my love.'

A sad smile danced its way across her lips as she took in every minuscule detail of his face, knowing that he was doing the same.

'You need only look inside your heart Ben Solo, and I will be there.'

Gently, she mimicked her words by placing her hand over his chest where his heart lay, beating only for her underneath. Gently, Ben reached his fingertips up and intertwined their fingers leaning against him, smiling down at the small yet meaningful connection.

'I need you to do one last favour for me, my love?'

'Anything you desire princess, name it and it's yours.'

His words brought a genuine smile across her face, the kind where your eyes would crinkle at the sides. His free hand came up to rest upon her cheek, slowly tracing over her dimples and smiling when he felt her subconsciously leaning more into his touch.

'Close your eyes and count to 10.'

'But I-'

'Close your eyes my love, and count to 10.'

As Ben reluctantly closes his eyes, Khaylia steals the opportunity to peel herself away from his touch, noting to herself the shiver that encompassed his whole body as she disconnected their hands, lingering, hesitating ever so slightly. The pain on his face is a memory she would never forget.

'1... 2... 3...' sob-choked numbers polluted the air around Ben, feeling as if he was suffocating in the emptiness she had left in her wake. He didn't dare open his eyes even long after he had finished counting, just sitting out in the open fields of the Jedi Temple. 

He knew that if he stayed in this position just a little while longer, he could pretend she was right beside him. For if he opened his eyes, he knew Khaylia would be nowhere in sight, and Ben wasn't ready to face that reality yet. And he didn't think he ever would be able to.

'I will find you, princess and I'll bring you back home to me.'

'I know you will my love, I know.'

After a few quiet moments of harrowing silence in Ben's head, her sweet voice resonating around his mind like a pin drop in a grand church, she reached out to him once more, instantly making him smile.

'I give my heart to you Ben Solo, for it will always belong to you.'

'As I for you, my princess. As I for you...'


	2. The Supremacy

Through time, Ben welcomed and accommodated his newfound loneliness, finally learning to shift his life around with her absence. But this came with a heavy price to pay to both his heart and to Luke Skywalker. Sitting, watching, as his nephew clawed at his chest, thinking it would be easier to rip his own heart out with his bare hands than to suffer through this agony, brought the legend to his knees. On more than one occasion. And knowing that absolutely nothing he could do would help Ben chipped away at his heart, one he so desperately tried to hide from his students. Finally, when Luke would think the worst was over and that every built-up emotion wrung dry, squeezed out the last bit of life Ben tried to cling onto with an iron grip would reality come crashing back in. To see Ben clambering around on his feet, trying to stand but eventually slumping back down onto his hands and knees, desperate for air.  
  
Over time, the heart-wrenching sobs became simple tears, the outbursts of rage dwindled into small huffs, and the once bright smile became a tight-lipped curl. It was as if he’d begun to incrementally turn to stone from the inside out, becoming detached and devoid of any glimpse of human emotion. Luke Skywalker took this as a coping mechanism to deal with her loss, not knowing that his naivety was his biggest mistake. Miss-understanding the emotional turmoil his nephew was undertaking drove a cleft between the two men, dividing their spirits into two. No longer understanding his nephew, nor having the ability to peer inside his mind left Luke feeling uneasy. An ominous grey cloud that suffocated anyone who dares enter Ben’s mind now shrouded and blocked Ben’s mind, once accessible and readable to the Grand Jedi Master. All that was interpreted were distorted images that raced through his mind, driving the young boy’s pain and anger to unimaginable lengths. Luke could never have known just how far gone Ben truly was. How much sickening tendrils of the Dark Side had sunk into his very soul, slowly stealing away every sliver of Light. His heart, mind and soul were no longer devoted to the cause of the Jedi, for now, they were the official property and play toy of the Supreme Leader of the Dark Side, Emperor Snoke.  
And Luke Skywalker, for the first time in a long time… was afraid. 

For every slice of pain Ben’s heart undertook, Khaylia would feel the full effects through their force-bond tearing her to pieces. One of her many punishments underneath Snoke’s advisement exposed her to his pain repeatedly, attempting to draw out her darker emotions that lay hidden underneath the layers of sunshine and protection Master Luke had weaved through her mind. Being submerged into Ben’s grief and mental torment fuelled her own self-hatred and subservience to Snoke, who would conveniently provide blissful moments of peace for the young woman just when the pain would deter her from training. But never a moment sooner. Unbeknownst to her master, Khaylia would spend hours awake at night sending soothing waves of stillness and peace into their force bond. Khaylia herself would instantly feel relaxed as the notions of calm radiated through her at the contrast from his ever-raging mind. She sifted through his mind, intertwining their fondest and happiest memories together and propelled her own feelings of love and adoration into his heart; sealing up the scars and cracks left behind.  
Easing his pain, if only for a few brief moments of every day, made the physical pain of Snoke’s experiments even more worth it. Knowing that she would endure the worst of his trials and tortures if it meant that she could go back to her quarters at night and establish that her Ben was safe. Crawling through the now darkened halls of The Supremacy, trails of her own blood smeared onto the cold sheets of metal below accompanied by the winding path of grisly red hand stains, Khaylia had never felt more alone.  
  
Isolated from any other militia personal aboard the ship, Snoke designated her a small portion of the West Wing where she could be granted minuscule moments of sanctuary for her mind to finally be at ease.  
Still adorning her Jedi trainee robes, Khaylia laid unmoving against the wall, knees huddled against her chest that was encompassed by her arms having now made it through the halls and into her assigned quarters. Her most pathetic attempt yet at maintaining the little sliver of dignity inside her soul that screamed and pounded at her rib cage for protection. As a welcoming gift upon her arrival on The Supremacy, the First Order’s finest Executioner Troops stood guard at the bottom of her shuttle ramp. To say that shock and fear immediately rippled throughout Khaylia’s body would be an understatement. However, that gut-wrenching, heart-hurling feeling beforehand could never have compared against the brutal physical and psychological torture that awaits just down a small portion of the labyrinth’s abandoned corridors. 

Amongst the legions of the First Order, corridor 57 of the Ward D of The Supremacy was a bad omen to all who dared to enter. For every soldier knew that those who walked down those halls were never seen again. But if by some god-given grace they returned, there was no soul or humanity left burning behind their eyes. Just cold black empty glass sockets, nothing remaining except an empty walking carcass of scars and missing limbs. Some officers and Stormtroopers speculated and gossiped that there was a dark sinister creature lurking through each hallway, crouching, lying in wait for its victims. None of these fantasies and speculations deemed too imaginative underneath Snoke’s rule… even the darkest of thoughts had seen the light of reality. Somehow being a speciality of Snoke’s, to make the darkest of nightmares become a living reality. Yet the screams of pure unrivalled agony that echoed on the exact stroke of midnight, the howls of men, woman and children pleading for the lives or their mummies and daddies, received the cackle of something, or worse someone, that could be explained as demonic. And those very halls were where Khaylia’s new quarters sat idle. But Khaylia could never have expected that rather than her being the one tortured, she herself would be the one to do the torturing.

The name of Khaylia Zenphi would from this day forth be no longer known throughout the universe. That name now carried a burden of too much happiness, too much light for any person of the First Order to be associated with. For Khaylia Zenphi would now be known as Reina Salin, a name that would strike fear into the hearts of anyone unfortunate enough to have heard the utterings of her name; harmonised with a bone-chilling whistled a tune from the Angel of Death herself. But that comes later when all hope for Khaylia is utterly lost. She can still feel however that small sliver of light calling out to her, showing that someone out in there in the universe still cares for her. And until the day where she could no longer feel his presence, she would still have something to fight for. So, as she laid crumpled in the corner like a discarded ball of paper, she uttered only one phrase.  
‘Bring it on.’


	3. Reina Stalin

‘Khaylia Zenphi your presence is requested in the Throne Room.’  
A modulated voice echoed throughout the quarters, startling Khaylia awake. Eyes oscillating around the room trying to locate the source from where the sudden noise had originated, inspecting any threats. As realisation dawned on her she was alone, calmed her racing heart, tuning her senses towards the intercom by the blaster doors.  
‘The request for your presence in the Throne Room is immediate.’  
The voice spoke once more before a singular monotonous beep sounded, showing the intercom channel had disconnected. Still trying to grasp a basic understanding of all the new technology that Khaylia was exposed to in the past 24 hours left her head swirling more than the usual; for she was still coming down after last nights ‘welcoming’ gift.  
Her once treasured Jedi robes now laid in tattered pieces strewn across the floor, a sign that Khaylia had broken free from the chains of coercion Master Luke had laid upon her family. For the first time since Khaylia had stepped through the archway of the Jedi Temple at 15, was she able to breathe with no conscience. Khaylia no longer felt the chains of the Jedi principles incarcerating her mind to refrain from the throes of passion and love she’d so desperately longed to feel. The cream-coloured robes symbolised Khaylia’s newfound freedom, and by the power of the Force was she overjoyed at the ruined, scathing sight of them.  
Stepping into the washroom, Khaylia cast her gaze upon the shower but onto the built-in shelf holding a blood-encrusted loofah mit that in-between the heart-wrenching sobs and hyperventilated breathing, did Khaylia rub her skin raw in a silent promise to herself that upon exiting the basin there be no more tears shed for her old life. She would adorn a new skin, a rebirth she so desperately needed to embrace the darkness within. A skin that Snoke would be proud of. Amidst her recall of the previous night, Khaylia carefully reconstructed the white bandages that were encircling her chest, wrists and thighs with surgical like precision, not breaking focus until every layer of white was smooth and seamless. Now fully embellished in a basic black tunic, pants and combat boots with hands held tightly behind her back, Khaylia began her trek up to the Throne Room.

The low humming vibrations of the elevator eased Khaylia’s racing mind, slowing her heartbeat to match the sustained incremental dings as they passed one floor after another. Although, it didn’t seem to help Khaylia’s mind that with ever ding was lifting her closer to meeting The Supreme Leader. A place of answers where a name and face could finally match the voice that had been living in her head for the past 4 years.  
‘Just breathe and it’ll be fine. You’ve wanted this for years, Khaylia… pull yourself together woman!’ Khaylia internally berated.  
Before long, the elevator doors ground open with a sharp clang of metal clashing together, exposing her to the expanse of red. A large brooding stone-like structure sat in the direct centre of her eye line towards the end of a black panelled bridge. Absorbing her surroundings, Khaylia noticed the hexagonal like pattern along the edges of what she assumed was the throne. Upon noticing these edges, she found faint outlines of 8 deep crimson red armoured statues all grasping deadly looking exotic weapons in their hands.  
‘Come closer my child,’ A deep sinister voice commands, Khaylia suddenly finding herself being dragged against her will, the tips of her boots scuffing along the ground.  
With a bewildered expression, a scarred man dressed in a robe of gold sat ingloriously upon the throne, scowling down at her.  
‘Ah, it is you. So studious, so young. I shall enjoy this very much.’  
The voice sends a familiar chill down her spine. The whole calibre of his voice filled her with a sense of warm familiarity. A rather odd sensation for the girl.  
‘Khaylia, my child. I’m content in the knowledge of your arrival.’  
‘As am I Supreme Leader.’ Her response comes instinctively, bending her knee in front of the throne.  
‘Rise.’ She does. ‘You’ve proven your strength and loyalty to me and I expect much greatness regarding your apprenticeship.’  
Pride swells within Khaylia’s chest. Snoke smirks as he feels the effect his praise has upon his subject.  
‘I’ll do whatever you command of me, a great leader. I only wish to serve you until my last breath.’  
‘I can see into your mind child, you need not explain it. I can feel the darkness growing inside of you, so powerful, so sinister. But not yet good enough.’  
Snoke tusks, shaking his head.  
‘Although you have entrusted yourself to the Dark Side, I still sense the infesting power of the Light within you!’ Grimace filled Snoke’s entire being at the mere mention of the Light Side.  
‘Supreme Leader, I instil my deepest apologies but I cannot supply an appropriate answer.’ Seconds later, pain erupts throughout Khaylia’s side, blistering and bubbling underneath her skin. A scream tears itself from the back of her throat, clutching her right ribcage.  
‘NOT GOOD ENOUGH!’ Another ear-piercing scream echoes from Khaylia who now lays screaming against the floor. Attempting to wiggle away from the pain Snoke was inflicting.  
‘Please, Master. I-I’m trying..’ Khaylia whispered through gritted teeth.  
‘Trying. A pathetic excuse used by those who are not strong enough to complete the task. Tell me, why did you come?’  
The pain subdued into nothing but a dull ache, allowing her to respond breathlessly.  
‘To fulfil my destiny.’ Stumbling to reposition herself into a kneeled bow, Khaylia steals a quick glance towards her Master only met with a scorned look of disappointment.  
‘And what is that destiny, child?’  
‘To become the First Order’s personal executioner, second to the Supreme Leader himself.’  
‘Ah, it's comforting to know that at least we have put some of my teachings to good use.’ Snoke beckons the Red Guards to life, drawing them in with a sickening curl of his talon-like fingers to stand at attention beneath his throne. ‘Its time. Fetch the armour.’  
Before Khaylia could process his words fully, the sound of wheels clacking against polished panels reverberate through the room, drawing her downcast gaze toward the sound.  
‘It’s beautiful.’  
Khaylia gasped as her eyes laid upon the enigmatic, beautiful suit of armour that stood before her. The obsidian embroidered cloth with haphazard glowing purple jagged lines spread throughout emanated power. Subtle woven-in elegancies of a deep mauve dwindled underneath the dull space lights which shrouded irregular spots in complete darkness; the perfect outfit for an assassin, Khaylia thought. Something that demanded attention only when the occasion would call for it.  
Draped over the shoulders was a long black suspended coat matching with the uniform below. Khaylia vividly imagined herself standing on a battlefield commanding large armies dressed in the attire before her, cape billowing behind her as she struck down her enemies. Nothing could’ve kept the smile from crossing her face.  
Laid around the waist, a metal and leather black belt stressed the hip outline with 2 individual holsters on each side. One she would have presumed to be her Lightsaber, but the reason for another holster left her slightly baffled. But she dare not question anything about her new armour because the girl couldn’t find anything to fault.  
She was in love.  
‘Master, surely I do not deserve such a gift on your behalf.’  
‘On the contrary. As my apprentice, I will not have you walking around in simpleton clothing. You had succumbed to the planarity and conformity of the Jedi Ways, but here on the Dark Side, those who deserve rewards shall receive. And you, my dear child, will bring forth new chaos into the galaxy. I look forward to the destruction you will reign.’  
Confliction was the only way to describe Khaylia’s beating heart. Khaylia had known from the very beginning that her heart would never fully belong to the Light Side, no matter how many meditations or gruelling pieces of training she undertook. You cannot change what destiny holds for you. And Khaylia knew her mind and soul were dedicated to the First Order.  
Ben.  
Oh, Ben. Her one true weakness. As long as Ben remained with his Uncle, Khaylia knew she’d never had the power to let him go. But that fact was hidden and locked away into the deepest parts of her soul that Snoke would never find.  
‘Here, my child.’ Snoke’s cold and monotonous voice dragged her out of her daydream as she tentatively reached up and grabbed the helmet from his outstretched hands.  
‘A Jackel. A creature from the Old Earth era.’  
Snoke answered the unasked question by the quizzical expression gracing Khaylia’s face.  
‘Known for their incredible stealth-like abilities during the hunt and cunning tricks to capture their prey. A suitable comparison I’ve foreseen.’  
Undoubtedly more interested in the helmet now as she stares back into the dormant purple abbess creeping into her soul. Enamoured by the utter beauty of her uniform, Khaylia projects her emotions of gratification towards Snoke, who only smirks and chuckles in response.  
‘I see great potential in you, Reina Stalin. I see great potential for the First Order’s leader assassin, the Silent Whistler.’


End file.
